whacking Valentine. It was enough to go to Mexico, and start his life over.
He stared up at Celebrity’s top floors, and envisioned Valentine fast asleep in one of the rooms. The last time they’d tangoed, Valentine had tricked him and broken Little Hands’s nose. A dirty movie had been playing in the motel room they were fighting in, and Little Hands had seen the movie and given up. He’d always had a thing about dirty movies. According to the prison psychiatrist at Ely, it was his mother’s fault. He’d seen her having rough sex when he was a kid, and never gotten over it.
The clock in the dashboard said 7:05. He picked up the paper bag from the passenger seat and looked at the money. It was
“Screw this,” he said aloud.
He pulled the car out of the lot and drove down a winding road that took him past Celebrity’s front entrance. Celebrity hadn’t existed the last time he’d been in Las Vegas, and he slowed down, craning his neck to look at the array of colorful parrots trapped in giant cages by the front door.
Satisfied, he started to speed up, then spotted Valentine walking out the front door with a nice-looking blonde on his arm. With them was a lanky cowboy carrying a golf bag filled with clubs. Little Hands had thought about Valentine every day since going to prison, and fantasized about paying him back. Pulling up along side the curb, he threw his vehicle into park.
Valentine and the woman were holding hands and sharing meaningful glances. Another car pulled up to the curb; a valet jumped out. Valentine tipped the valet while the cowboy put his clubs into the trunk. The cow boy got into the back, the blonde into the passenger seat, and Valentine slipped behind the wheel. The car pulled away from the curb.
Little Hands decided to follow them.
Soon he was on a narrow road heading toward Celebrity’s golf course. His window was open, and the wind rustled the paper bag on the passenger seat. The mouth of the bag was open, and he glanced at the money and imagined all it would buy down in Mexico. He didn’t need to kill Valentine. His life was set.
He continued to follow Valentine’s car anyway.
Valentine had always been a fan of the Marx Brothers, his favorite film being
Whenever Rufus Steele tried to persuade suckers to bet against him, Valentine was reminded of that magical piano solo. Like Chico Marx, Rufus always went well past the end, his language as outlandish as music produced in thin air.
“Come on, boys, what do you say? Money talks, nobody walks. It’s time to put up or shut up.” Rufus smiled at the group of suckers who’d come to Celebrity’s golf course to watch him play the Greek. “This is one you can’t lose, what my daddy called a mortal cinch. No tricks, no deception, just a friendly game of golf. My opponent was a runner-up in the National Amateur Championship and is a scratch golfer. Isn’t that so, Greek?”
The Greek and Marcy Baldwin sat stoically in a golf cart. Lying in Marcy’s lap was Medusa, who’d emitted a horrified shriek upon seeing Rufus.
“That’s right,” the Greek replied.
“What’s
“Besides my shining personality?” Rufus said. “It’s a ten. If you don’t believe me, call the pro at Caesars’ golf shop. I’ve been playing his course for twenty years.”
“Did you check that out?” the sucker asked the Greek.
“Yes,” the Greek said. “His handicap is ten.”
“What is Rufus trying to pull?” Gloria whispered in Valentine’s ear. “He’s going to lose if he’s not careful.”
Valentine felt the same way. He and Gloria stood by the practice tees, a small but dedicated rooting section. Golf was a game where you beat yourself, not your opponent. He couldn’t see Rufus overcoming ten strokes no matter how well he played.
“Explain the rules again,” the sucker said.
“Be happy to,” Rufus said. “The Greek and I are going to play eighteen holes of golf. Because many of you expect me to pull a fast one, I’ve given the Greek an edge. He gets to hit three drives on every hole, then pick the best ball to play with.”
“How many drives do you get?” the sucker asked.
“Just one,” Rufus replied.
“What kind of odds are you offering?”
“Even money. The Greek is betting me half a million dollars. I’d be happy to take your action or anyone else’s, if you’re so inclined.”
The suckers went into a huddle. Gloria nudged Valentine with her elbow, and he reluctantly went over to where Rufus stood. “How you feeling?” Valentine asked.
“Never better,” the old cowboy replied.
“You don’t think this is a mistake?”
“Only suckers make mistakes,” Rufus said.
The suckers ponied up another thirty grand, which Valentine agreed to hold for safekeeping. Rufus went to where their caddies stood by the bags. The Greek joined him and said, “I’ve got one stipulation before we start.”
“What’s that?” Rufus asked.
“I want our caddies to take off their shoes,” the Greek said.
“You got a shoe fetish or something?”
“No, I just want to look at them.”
Rufus turned to the caddies. “Boys, what do you say?”
The caddies removed their spiked golf shoes and handed them over. The Greek examined each shoe, pulling forcefully at the sole.
“What are you doing?” Marcy Baldwin called from the golf cart.
“I’m making sure the soles don’t come off,” the Greek said. “I had a guy trick me one time. His caddy’s shoes had removable soles. Every time his ball went into the rough, his caddy picked up the ball with his toes, and dropped it in a favorable lie.”
“Ha!” Marcy Baldwin said.
“‘Ha’ is right,” the Greek said. Finished, he handed the shoes back to the caddies. “Don’t let me catch you pulling any fast stuff, hear me?”
“Yes, sir,” they both said.
The Greek went to his bag and pulled out his driver, then removed three brand-new golf balls from the bag’s side pocket. He walked over to the first hole, teed up a ball, and drove it 250 yards down the fairway, then teed up two more balls, and drove them equally as far. His swing was clean and pure, and Valentine and Gloria craned their necks, watching the balls fly gracefully through the air.
“I’ll use the third ball,” the Greek said.
“Third ball, it is,” Rufus said.
Rufus teed up, and drove his ball 150 yards down the fairway. His swing was awkward and ugly, its only saving grace that it made the ball go straight.
The Greek burst out laughing. His ball was a hundred yards closer to the pin than Rufus’s. He hopped into the golf cart and Marcy gave him a kiss.
“Good going, honey,” she said.
By the ninth hole, the Greek was ahead by eleven shots, and insulting Rufus at every opportunity. The Greek had finally found a game he could win, and was doing victory dances on the greens each time he sank a putt.
“This is insulting,” Gloria said, sitting in a golf cart with Valentine. “Go sock him in the nose, will you?”
Valentine was at the wheel. She knew him too well, and he said, “I would, but there are witnesses.”
“I’ll lift my blouse and distract them,” she said.
He tried not to laugh too loudly and glanced at Rufus standing on the edge of the green, trading one-liners
